7 Hearts and Minds
by piccolina789
Summary: Follows the entire seventh season of CSI with "what happened after?" post-eps. Spoilers for all of CSI season seven, from "Built to Kill" to "Living Doll". GSR.
1. Built to Love

**A/N: **Oh hey, season seven! I'm so excited for this one. I'm going to try to include as many different POVs as I can. Also, some of the chapters might be on the shorter side, but there will be more of them, since there are so many great episodes to write for!

Spoilers for episodes 7x1 and 7x2, Built To Kill.

* * *

><p>As I sat at Sam's funeral, my mother on one side of me and Lindsey on the other, I felt wholly, completely numb.<p>

Why did Sam always have to mess things up for my family? I was only just coming to terms with accepting him as my father, and now he's gone. My mother couldn't control her tears, she soaked through three handkerchiefs. Lindsey was as quiet as a mouse and as still as a statue. I was worried about them both. I didn't have enough time to be worried about me.

The turnout at the funeral was huge. I didn't recognize half the faces in the church. But seated a couple rows back from me and my family, the team sat together. They had come to pay their respects to Sam and show support for me. I was grateful, but I didn't have the time or energy to face them quite yet.

When the service ended, Lindsey melted into me, and I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her sob into my shoulder. She was struggling to recuperate, just like I was. In that moment, I swore to myself that I would try harder to be a better mother and friend to her. It was a promise I'd made time and time again, always failing to live up to it like a New Year's resolution by summertime. But this time, I told myself, it would be different. Sam had lost his chance to be a real father to me. Lindsey had no father left. I was all she had.

The sun was unnaturally bright as we stepped outside the church, blurring my vision. I shook so many hands and was offered so many hugs, I lost track, operating on autopilot after the first couple dozen. A hand on my shoulder almost made me jump.

"Cath," Grissom said softly. "I'm so sorry."

I accepted his hug, because it was one that I actually wanted. I allowed myself to cry just a little in his embrace, because I hadn't let myself shed even one tear since Sam was shot, for my mother's and Lindsey's sake. When we pulled away, Grissom's brow was wrinkled in concern.

"I'll be ready to get back to work the day after tomorrow," I said, clearing my throat. "Just… a few loose ends to tie up."

"Don't worry about work," he said. "We have it covered… if you need more time."

I shook my head.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I said. "I think the best thing for me to do – for all of us to do – is get back to normal as soon as possible. But I appreciate the offer."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there much for you," he offered. "I had no idea until…"

"It's okay," I cut in. "I-I can handle it. And Warrick was there at the crash. And Sara helped at the motel."

An odd little smile crossed his face as his eyes flickered to the spot where Sara lingered by her car.

"Well, anything you need, just let me know."

"Thanks, Gil."

A while after our conversation, I buried my father and the numbness reclaimed me. And when I went back to work, the first few days were tough. The distraction was needed, but it was difficult to watch Nick and Warrick teasing each other, Greg throwing jokes, Sara looking especially cheerful and even Grissom cracking a smile or two, while I was working so hard to keep my family, my life and my sanity in tact.

I guess I just wasn't meant for a happy ending.


	2. Bedsidetalkin'

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 7x4, Fannysmackin'.

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><p>I couldn't sleep.<p>

Every time I tried, I saw fists launching at me and felt pain on every inch of my face. I played and replayed the events of the night in excruciating detail, wondering what I did wrong or right, worrying if I should have done more or less.

Eventually, I think I did fall asleep, because the visions suddenly became crystal-clear. I saw Demetrius James, eyes blazing, striding towards me. I felt the thudding in my heart, my breath catching in my throat, the nails digging into my palms. I felt the pummeling… over and over until it barely hurt any more because I couldn't feel a thing. Everything in a daze, not wanting to move too much for fear that something would hurt or something else would happen.

When I woke, it was with a gasping pant, my chest rising and falling in rapid breaths, beads of sweat covering my forehead. Standing in the door, bags of Mexican take-out in their hands and scared, worried looks on their faces, was Warrick, Nick and Sara.

I struggled to catch my breath as they stood, paralyzed, in the doorway. I swallowed hard and breathed through my nose until finally, Sara handed Nick her plastic bag of veggie tacos and what I knew must be a steak burrito for me, and made her way to my bed.

"Greg," she asked, her voice shaky. "Are you okay?"

"Nightmare," I panted, wiping my forehead with my sleeve. "I'll be fine."

"We… brought you some food," Nick offered, joining Sara.

I offered them the best smile I could muster.

"Thanks."

"If you need some rest, man, we can come back later," Warrick said.

"No," I said quickly, reluctant to be alone again. "No, I'm starving. Hand it over."

Sara smiled, but the worry didn't quite disappear from her eyes as she took her bag back from Nick and extracted my double steak burrito with extra guacamole.

"Just how I like it," I told her through a mouthful. "Thanks."

"We're really glad you're okay, man," Nick said, stealing some of Sara's chips. "What a night."

"I never knew what hit me," I said slowly. "It happened so fast, but… now, I can't stop replaying it over and over in my mind. It's like a bad movie."

"You did good, Greg," Warrick assured him quietly. "Somehow you kept it together enough to notice what was going on around you."

The corner of Sara's mouth tugged up.

"Telling me to collect DNA while you're lying there in the street," she teased, shaking her head. "Typical."

She paused.

"Have you told your parents yet?"

I stopped chewing in the middle of a huge bite of burrito and stared at her.

"Did Grissom tell you?" I asked in disbelief.

She shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Well, report to Mr. Gossip that they have been duly informed," I huffed. "They're on their way into town now."

I swallowed hard. My mom hadn't taken the news well. It'd be a miracle if she didn't storm into CSI, yelling at whichever unfortunate soul was unlucky enough to cross her path, wondering why her precious only son was beaten to a pulp on the Las Vegas streets when he should have been tucked away, safe and sound, in the lab.

"Well, law enforcement isn't safe no matter what field you're in," Warrick said.

"Don't remind me," I mumbled, meeting Sara's eyes. We both remembered the day of the lab explosion all too well.

"If anything, have Grissom talk to her," Nick suggested. "He can vouch for what a good CSI you are… if your family knows how good you are at your job, maybe they won't be as apprehensive."

"You think Grissom would vouch for me?"

"Of course he will," Sara said, a little too quickly. We all turned to stare at her. "He… thinks you're a valuable asset to the team."

"Whatever," I said. "I just want the nightmares to go away."

"They will, Greg," Nick said quietly. "It'll just take some time."

A nurse knocked on the door.

"Excuse me," she said. "Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over. You can back in the morning."

"Well, I guess that's our cue," Warrick said, gathering the trash. "Feel better, man."

"Yeah, we expect to see you at the lab soon," Nick joked, following Warrick to the door. "Sara?"

"I'll, uh… catch up," she said, lingering and waiting for the guys to leave before turning towards me.

"What?"

"I'm worried about you," she said.

"I'm fine," I lied. "Really."

She nodded, silence settling over us.

"Thank you," I said. "For coming to see me. Both tonight and… earlier."

Sara shifted from one foot to another, before taking her seat back by my bed.

"You know, I had a really, really crummy year last year," she said. "And you were the only one who was always there for me. So thank _you_."

She covered my hand with hers. After all these years of working together, I knew I had no chance with her. Eventually, my little crush had faded away. But even still, mixed in with the feelings of respect and adoration that I had for her, there were still some inklings of affection.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something – anything – about how much she meant to me, but the words were lost along the way. I hoped that my feelings were conveyed to her through our gaze.

"You know, maybe once you're up for it, we should start running together again," Sara said. "I miss our jogging dates."

"Me too," I said, managing a grin. "Let's do it."

"Feel better, Greggo," she said. "I'm glad you're okay."

She smiled at me, and I watched her leave, smiling back. A few feet outside the door, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID, smiled, and opened the phone, smiling wider. And as she started talking, I think I actually saw Sara Sidle _blush. _Fleetingly, I wondered who in the world she could be talking to, but I pushed the thought aside and just watched her smile and be happy. For a moment, it made me happy too.

But once I lost sight of her down the hallway, my heart started to feel heavier. I was glad to have seen my friends, but now that they were gone, I felt… empty. Drained. I was still scared – nervous and jumpy and anxious. I was exhausted, but I didn't want the nightmares to return, so I fought against my heavy eyelids and tried to stay awake as long as possible. I thought about how much I dreaded seeing my family, and the looks of worry that would accompany them. And how much I dreaded returning to work, and gazes of pity coming from my coworkers. And yet, I'd have to tolerate it, the worry and the pity, and pretend to be my old self all the while. I didn't feel up to it. But somehow, I'd have to make it happen.

Eventually, I lost the battle with my eyelids and fell asleep.

And the nightmares came.


	3. Burning Out

**A/N: **Happy Labor Day weekend to those in the US! There aren't any episodes airing on Monday because of the holiday, but I will be posting anyways :)

Spoilers for episode 7x6, Burn Out.

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><p>"Greg, do you know where Grissom is?"<p>

He shrugged and kept walking.

"Nope."

"Greg," I called as he turned towards me. "I'm sorry for earlier. That was my fault."

He shrugged again before pausing and turning his head slightly sideways, actually very Grissom-like. He stared at me for a passing moment.

"How come he let it slide when it was you?" he asked.

I opened my mouth, but caught off-guard, no sounds came out.

"I… what do you mean?" I fumbled.

He continued to gaze at me for a moment more before shrugging and exhaling in exasperation.

"Never mind," he said, turning away from me. "I don't know where he is. Ask Brass."

I watched his retreating back until it turned a corner, curious over what had just happened. But I shoved the thought from my mind for the moment, and pulled out my cell.

"Brass."

"It's Sara," I said. "Hey, have you, um… seen Grissom? I… just need to tell him something and I can't find him anywhere."

"Not answering his cell?"

"No."

"Well, that would be because he's been lying on a couch here at P.D. for the last two hours," Brass said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he was dead by the way he's lying so still… but he mentioned a migraine."

"He has a migraine?" I repeated, concern slipping into my tone. "I mean, uh… thanks. Thanks, Jim."

I flipped my cell closed and squeezed my eyes shut. That was two almost-kind-of-slip-ups in a span of only a few minutes. It was hard not showing concern for him at work when I knew something was wrong, but I would have to be more careful.

I made my way to my car and headed towards P.D.

* * *

><p>I felt like I'd had my eyes closed not twenty minutes before I heard the door open and close softly. I sighed, not wanting to deal with Catherine, or Brass, or Ecklie, or really anybody just then. I was tired and angry, and a little bit disappointed, and all I really wanted to do was retreat into myself for a while and think. Or just sit in silence.<p>

But when I felt a cool hand on my warm forehead, I recognized the touch immediately. I wondered how Sara knew I was here, but all thoughts and worries were pushed aside as another round of pulsing pain pounded in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

"It's me," Sara whispered, her hands moving to my hair. "Did you take something?"

I shook my head. She continued her feather-soft touches to my hair, and though the pain wasn't subsiding, I felt myself relaxing.

"We should go home," she said after a while, stroking my cheek before gently trying to lift me up.

I sighed, but knowing that she was right, pulled myself into a sitting position. When I finally opened my eyes to look at her, I found her face full of concern, but she didn't press it – not yet. Instead, she drove me home, letting me close my eyes and staying silent the whole time, knowing that noise and sound would only hurt me more. I was grateful that the week previously, she had accepted my offer to move in together. Because I knew I would not have taken care of myself if I had had to gone home alone, like I had so many times in the past.

But now I had Sara, and the boxes of clothes and sheets and picture frames that came with her, once we got to the townhouse I headed straight for bed, not even bothering to change clothes. Sara came in only to close the blinds, place a glass of water on our nightstand and place a gentle kiss on my cheek. Then she snuck out again, quiet as could be.

When I awoke, the room was still dark, but I knew I must have been asleep for hours. The pain had been reduced to a mild throb, and I ambled into the hall to find Sara curled on the couch, having a crack at the newspaper crossword. I crept up behind her, slipping my arms around her shoulders.

"Thank you, honey," I said, kissing her cheek and making my way around the couch to sit next to her.

She put down the crossword and bit her lip.

"I'm worried about you," she said.

"Don't be."

"You used to only get those once a year, if that," she pressed. "This makes two in three months."

She paused.

"Was it the case?"

"It was a lot of things," I replied.

We sat for a few moments, knees touching knees.

"Do you wanna…"

"No," I interrupted her softly. "No, not now."

She nodded, visibly more worried than she was at P.D. I had no way of explaining to her that the exhaustion that claimed me was not just from the case, but from each and every day, the kind of exhaustion that built up until it sunk straight into my bones. I was not okay, not now, but I didn't want her to worry.

"Hey," I said softly, putting a hand to her cheek. "I told you not to worry. I'm okay."

She raised and lowered a shoulder, and I reached for her, pulling her close.

"I'm okay," I repeated into her ear.

"Promise?" she whispered back.

I paused.

"I promise."

She settled into me, her arms around me. I knew she must not have gotten much sleep, worried about me and resigned to the couch, and I was still bone tired. So we slept for a few more hours, together. And when I woke, Sara's smile was bright and the pain was gone.

For now.


	4. Pre Weary

**A/N:** Short one today, but laying the ground for the Grissom-goes-on-sabbatical chapters. Expect those tomorrow :)

Spoilers for episode 7x7, Post Mortem.

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><p>"Greg," I called as the sound of screeching tires faded away into the distance. "Greg! Hey!"<p>

He was staring at a piece of paper with unwavering concentration, not even looking up at me until I was standing beside him.

"I just got served," he said in disbelief. "Suit for a wrongful death."

"You're kidding me," I said incredulously as he handed the papers to me. "Greg, this is… I don't know what this is. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head.

"I'm never going to be able to put this behind me," he muttered, taking the papers back.

"Yes, you will," I said firmly. "They're not going to win this case, and more importantly, they're not going to win you. You did nothing wrong."

"What I did was excusable, Sara," he said. "Not right. I deserve this."

"Hey," I cut in firmly, snatching the papers from him so he'd stop staring. "Where's the CSI I trained? Because I don't recognize this guy."

"He's there somewhere," he grumbled.

"Well, I want to see him again," I said. "With drinks. C'mon, I'll drive."

But Greg just stayed put, shaking his head.

"I don't think so."

I stopped short in surprise. I'd never known Greg to pass up an opportunity for drinks, especially with me. I recognized the exhaustion that reflected in his eyes and set in his shoulders, and realized he really just needed to get home and get some rest.

"Okay," I agreed. "But promise me a rain check."

"Promise."

I pulled him into a hug and let him walk away, knowing that there wasn't much I could say that he hadn't already heard or thought. As he got to his car, my phone went off from my pocket.

_With Archie, _it read. _Meet you at home soon. G_

I smiled at drove home, putting on a pot of water when I got there to make us some dinner. Twenty minutes later, Gil practically burst in the front door, his eyes more excited than I'd seen them in weeks.

"What lit a flame under you?" I teased as he kissed me.

"We got him," he replied as my eyes widened. "Well, not _got _him, got him, but we got him on camera. The Miniature Killer. It's only a matter of time before we track him down."

"That's great, honey," I said in relief, kissing him back. "God, that's good news."

He grinned wide and put his hands on my hips.

"I'm need to put these cases behind me," he said.

"There's a lot of that going around."

The water started bubbling over, but he twisted me back towards him.

"Kiss me again."

So I did. I didn't know what lead or what clue had broken the Miniature Killer case, but I was so thankful that it had. So I kissed him again and again. At least once this thing was finally done with, Gil might actually be happy, instead of just pretending.

Like everyone else around here.


	5. Leaving La Coeur

**A/N: **To follow.

Spoilers for episode 7x11, Leaving Las Vegas.

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><p>I wanted to call Sara the minute I landed in Massachusetts. I turned my phone on as soon as the flight attendant told us we could, but I had no missed calls or voice messages. My heart sunk. Our parting had played in my mind since I left, and as much as I could wish that I had said and done something different, it didn't change anything. She could try to hide it, but I could see the soft disappointment in Sara's eyes, the strength she was trying to project, to uphold.<p>

I wanted to call her on my way to the hotel, but after staring at her number the entire ride, I couldn't do it. Something was holding me back. I found myself growing frustrated and angry – at myself. All I wanted was to hear her voice – after I had left her.

I was a fool.

Finally, after checking into my hotel room and getting my things mostly unpacked, I picked up my cell again. It was nine a.m. local time, which meant that in Las Vegas, Sara was just getting off shift and getting home. I dialed her number, and was relieved when she answered.

"I made it," I said as an introduction.

"I'm glad."

I paused. She didn't sound angry, necessarily, but there was a lack of warmth to her voice that made my stomach feel unsettled.

"Sara, I… I want to apologize," I began. "This happened so fast…"

"You should have told me sooner," she interrupted.

"I know," I said softly.

"Five days was not much head's up. I barely knew before the lab did. We hardly had time to talk about it… I… I don't even know why you wanted to go."

"I know."

She paused, and when she spoke again, I could tell she was on the verge of tears.

"We didn't even really get to say goodbye."

Suddenly, every fiber of my being suddenly wished that I was back in Las Vegas again, just so I could hold her, comfort her. Then again, if I were in Vegas, she wouldn't need comforting.

"I know, Sara," I repeated. "And I'm so sorry. You deserve so much better than that. I… handled it all wrong. I messed up. Will you forgive me?"

I heard her take a deep, wavering breath. My heart pounded.

"I'll try," she breathed. "I just… can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Is it me?"

"You?" I said in disbelief, realizing the implications of her question. "H-honey… no. No. Of course not. No."

"If it is, please just tell me," she went on, almost pleading. "I'll… I'll understand. Smothering – remember?"

"Sara," I said firmly. "It's not you. I promise. You are the _one _thing in my life I know is right."

I could almost see her nodding.

"Okay."

"I'd been thinking about doing this for a while, honey," I admitted. "But I always found one reason or another to stay… the biggest one always being you. But eventually… I just couldn't take it any more. I need a breather."

"Okay."

I sighed in relief, hoping she could gage my genuine honesty through the phone, hoping the issue was at rest.

"How's Hank?" I asked, staring out the window of my hotel room, trying to visualize them on my couch together. The image, while making me feel heartbreakingly homesick, also offered comfort.

"He misses you," she said. "He's trying to get used to his new digs."

"New digs?"

She gave a short laugh.

"Sorry. New place of residence."

"I know what digs are," I said impatiently. "Sara… where are you?"

"My apartment."

I tore my gaze away from the window, my visualization broken. I hadn't even thought that she might not stay at my townhouse while I was away. She hadn't been to her apartment once since she'd moved in with me. And something about the idea of her and Hank, alone in her apartment, made me feel suddenly, inexplicably sad.

"Y-you're at your place?"

"It's too quiet at yours – ours," she said softly, as an explanation.

I pressed my eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, Sara," I apologized again. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," she said softly. "How's Massachusetts?"

"Cold," I answered. "Snowy. Gray. How's Vegas since I left it?"

"Warm," she replied. "Glitzy. Bright. The same."

I chuckled.

"You should get some sleep," I told her. "Can I call you before work?"

"Of course," she said.

"Okay," I said softly. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too."

I hung up, smiling as I showered and prepared for the first day of class, unaware that over 2,000 miles away, in warm, glitzy, bright Las Vegas, Sara – my Sara – was opening a package with trembling hands.

A pregnancy test.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Okay, don't throw tin cans at me. I know this has been done before, and done very well. But I always liked the idea of Sara dealing with something when Grissom was gone. This season threw a lot at them, it's not too much to imagine one more. But this will stay canon, I promise.


	6. Problem

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 7x13, Redrum.

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><p>I pulled a water bottle from the fridge, sat at the counter and put my head in my hands. I was so exhausted, I wanted to fall asleep right then and there. Hank was gobbling down his food in the corner. As he ate, I looked around the empty apartment and just felt… sad.<p>

I missed him. We hadn't spoken in a few days, even though so much was happening. I tried sleeping at the townhouse the night previously – it hadn't gone well. It felt empty and foreign without him there, and I ended up doing more crying than sleeping.

I dug through my purse for my phone, staring at it with an emotionless gaze. It would be so easy to call him, to tell him right then and there, but I just… couldn't.

My gaze drifted over to the cardboard box sticking out of my purse. I don't know why I kept it. Maybe I was just in disbelief. Every time I stared at it, I expected to see one little pink line, but instead, I saw two. The two little pink lines that told me I was pregnant.

I hadn't even begun to grasp it. Kids were never really part of my plan. I was not the maternal type. And Gil… well, he was only just learning how to adjust his life for me. How could I possibly ask him for this?

The gentle buzzing from my phone made me jump. My heart pounded in my chest. I was going to tell him.

"I can't put this down, Sara," the voice on the other line said.

I sighed. Nick.

"Uh, yeah, me either," I said distractedly. I _was _angry and disappointed over the reverse forensics debacle, but… I had other things on my mind. "I'm sure Warrick just wants to let it go, and Greg's probably forgiven everyone already?"

"Yep," he sighed. "I don't know, Sara. This would have never happened if Grissom was around."

I hummed a noncommittal agreement.

"You think he's really coming back?" he pondered.

"Of course he is," I said quickly. "Why wouldn't he?"

"You haven't noticed him acting… strange… lately?"

I cleared my throat.

"How do you mean?"

"You mean besides taking up and leaving the lab for a month?"

"Yeah, beside that."

"Well, he's not eating, sleeping and living in the lab," Nick mused. "He looks good. Happy. Maybe he finally has a girl in his life."

In Grissom's townhouse, with Grissom's dog at my feet and Grissom's bed only feet away, I had to fight off my shock.

"Um, yeah. Maybe."

"Sorry," Nick said quickly. "I know that might be uncomfortable for you. Anyways, I'm hitting the gym to try and work off this steam. I'll talk to you later, Sar."

"Uh, sure, okay," I stammered. "Later, Nick."

I closed my phone and stared at it in disbelief. Nick might still might have been clueless on one important detail, but was still starting to pick up on things. We _really _needed to be careful.

I was just about to give up and go to bed, when my phone rang again. And this time, it wasn't an angry Nick.

"Hi," I said softly, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Hi, honey," Gil said on the other line. "I was just thinking of you and decided I had to hear your voice. I miss you."

"I miss you too," I said, smiling despite myself. "I got your gift."

"You did?" he said, excitement in his voice. "What do you think?"

"I love it," I replied. "It's… perfect."

Halfway across the country, I could feel him beaming, so I left it at that, not mentioning that a note or even a simple _Love, Gil _would have been nice.

"How's Hank?" he asked. "How is work?"

"Hank's fine," I said, looking down at the drooly dog. "He misses you too. Work is… fine."

"Are you okay?" he asked, picking up on the weariness in my voice.

"I'm… fine," I said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He paused.

"That's not very convincing, honey," he said softly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Just a lot going on. And I miss you."

"I miss you too," he said before pausing again. "I do, Sara."

"I know."

I heard him sigh.

"I don't like how things are between us right now," he said. "It feels like you're angry with me, but you're trying not to show it."

"I'm not angry," I replied, wanting to change the subject and trying to keep my eyes off that pregnancy test on the counter. "How are classes?"

"It's been a long time since I've been around students," he said. "They're keeping me on my toes."

"Well, don't let any girls with too many questions give you their e-mail addresses," I teased. "You know how that ends up."

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "My body may be in Massachusetts, but my heart is back in Las Vegas with you."

I smiled and silence settled over us. I wished so much that he was here, so that I could confide in him about everything – the stupid drama at the lab and the not so stupid discoveries here at home. I wished I could just fold into his arms instead of pretending that everything was okay, but that just wasn't the way things were.

"Sara?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad I came here," he said shyly. "I wish the circumstances before I left were… better, but I'm glad I'm here. It's… the breather from the lab that I needed."

"Good," I said sincerely. "I'm glad."

I glanced at the clock and realized how much time had passed since I'd gotten off shift.

"Gil, I have to go," I said hurriedly.

"You do?" he said, not quite hiding the disappointment in his tone. "I thought…"

"I'm sorry," I cut off. "I… have something to take care of. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Sara," he said firmly. "You would tell me if something was going on, right? You'd tell me if you weren't okay?"

"I'm fine," I stressed. "I just have somewhere to be. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," he sighed. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you too."

I ended the call, and as much as I wanted to really throw myself into bed, I hadn't been lying. I had somewhere to be.

* * *

><p>"Ms. Sidle?"<p>

The doctor cracked open the door and poked her head in before fully entering the room.

"I have the results of the tests the nurse ran on you," she continued. "I don't know if this will be good news or bad news for you, but you are not pregnant."

"Are not?" I repeated in disbelief. "But I… I took a pregnancy test."

"Those can often yield false positives," the doctor said gently. "These tests are much more accurate. I'm sorry."

I shook my head.

"I-it's okay," I said, reaching for my jacket. "It's okay."

I practically sprinted out of there, and the moment I got outside, I took gulps of fresh air, tears stinging my eyes. I had no idea why. I hadn't really wanted or intended to be pregnant in the first place. I had been scared and anxious at the prospect of having to tell Gil. Now that all of it was off my shoulders, I should have felt relieved.

But instead, I got into my car, locked the door behind me, and cried some more.


	7. Law of Attraction

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback on the sabbatical chapters. I was unsure if I should go for it, but I'm glad I did :)

Spoilers for episode 7x15, Law of Gravity.

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><p>I'd spoken to Mike Keppler for a handful of minutes. But after his death, the lab was a mess. He must have made some kind of impression. Catherine looked close to having a nervous breakdown, Nick and Warrick kept long faces, and even Jim, a fellow New Jerseyian, was sullen.<p>

It wasn't exactly how I imagined my homecoming. It was a lot of paperwork and talking with Ecklie and Catherine and running around doing so much this and that, that I hardly got to see Sara at all. When I'd finally exhausted most of the things that needed to be taken care of, I retreated to the quiet of my office and called her.

"Hey," she answered warmly.

"Where are you?"

"Home," she positively purred. "Waiting for you."

My stomach stirred with nervousness and excitement. I'd missed her so much over the last month, and I couldn't wait to be _home_. Until I left, I never realized how much that word meant. How much Sara was home for me.

I think I ran four red lights on the way home.

When I opened the front door, Hank bounded his way to me, placing his huge paws on my chest and panting furiously. I spared a few seconds to give him a good scratching behind the ears, then made my way to the bathroom, where I could hear soft movements behind the closed door.

I knocked quickly and cracked it open, finding Sara wrapped in a towel, hair curly and still damp and her smile bright. I went straight to her, wrapping my arms around her and pressing her close.

"Mmm," she murmured against my lips. "I missed you."

My kisses moved down her soft skin to the nape of her neck. Her fingers grazed my cheek.

"I think I missed this, too," she teased.

I couldn't part my lips from her, not for a second. She felt so warm, so soft, so… good.

"Sara."

It was a whisper of a breath, said pressed into her skin, but when she looked at me, she understood. She dropped her towel and pulled me out of the bathroom, undressing me along the way, until we both landed at my bed. My stomach flipped at the sight of her. My hands moved over her breast, stroking them softly, to her stomach and down her legs. I couldn't get enough.

By the time we finished, we were both damp, but still pressed body-to-body. I didn't want to lose the feel of her. My home.

"I missed this," she sighed.

"Were you close with him?" I asked after a pause, my fingers playing through her hair.

"Who?"

"Keppler."

She rolled a little to face me.

"Not really," she said softly. "But I liked him. I think you would have too."

I nodded and tugged her closer.

"I almost kissed you in the hallway today," I said, only half joking. "Even though you stunk."

"Well, a little warning would have been nice," she teased back. "My idea of a reunion was candles and wine. And we have to be careful, by the way. We're leaving too many clues."

"I'll try," I breathed, kissing her hand.

She pulled back from me a little, propping her head in her hands.

"Are you still glad you went?" she asked.

"Yes."

She looked at me for a moment, kissed me, then settled back into my embrace.

"Good."

"I won't leave you again," I said, meeting her gaze. "I promise."

She nodded, and we laid together for a while in silence, enjoying the closeness of our bodies and each of our fingers drawing traces on the other's skin. She was almost asleep when I detangled myself from her, slipping out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Sara murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Bathroom," I breathed back, kissing her hair. "I'll be right back."

She murmured again and I left as quickly as possible, eager to get back to her. As I washed my hands in the sink lined with Sara's hair products, I noticed a bright pink box amongst the bottles of hair gel. I picked it up in disbelief, opening it with doubt, even thought I knew what must have been inside. And sure enough, a little white stick with two little pink lines.

I nearly fell backwards. I dropped the stick and placed two hands firmly on the counter to keep myself upright, reminding myself to breathe. In and out.

There were too many thoughts racing through my head at once to concentrate on just one. How? Why? When? _Why hadn't she told me?_

Was she scared? Was she happy? Was she planning on keeping it?

Was _I_ scared? Happy? This was never something I had planned for…

Jesus.

_Why hadn't she told me? _

I was as much angry as I was confused. I was angry with myself, for leaving her and not being around as she was going through this. But I was angry with her too. This affected my life just as much as hers.

I grabbed the stick and made my way back to the bedroom, where Sara was breathing lightly.

I plopped down next to her unceremoniously, her eyes fluttering open.

"You want to explain this?" I asked, holding the stick out to her.

Her eyes grew wide, and she sat up slowly.

"I thought I threw that away," she said timidly.

"When were you planning on telling me, Sara?"

Her lip trembled.

"No – you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," I said thickly. "I hurt you, so you wanted to hurt me right back. Well, this was a lousy way of doing it, Sara."

"Gil—"

"Pregnant?" I said incredulously. "Jesus, Sara, I don't even know what to say—"

"I'm not pregnant," she burst.

I stopped short, still holding the stick in my hand.

"What?"

"I'm not pregnant," she repeated, gathering the sheets up around her, looking wounded. "It… it was a false positive."

My lips parted. I put the test on the nightstand and sat next to her. She withdrew a little, pressing the sheets closer to her, which made my heart break.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said forcefully, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Oh, Sara…"

"Don't," she cut in. "Judging by that reaction, I'm glad I'm not."

She paused, shaking her head slightly.

"Would it really have been the worst thing in the world? Having a baby with me?"

The tears streamed down her face as we gazed at each other. I could already feel them building up in my own eyes.

"God—no," I said. "Honey, no. That's… that's not it at all. I just couldn't believe you wouldn't tell me. I still don't."

"I wanted to," she whispered. "And after the doctor, I was going to, but when I found out I wasn't, I just… couldn't."

I took her hand, and this time, she didn't pull away. Both our faces were tearful. In our locked gaze, I understood how difficult it must have been for her. Children were something we'd never discussed; we were too content and inexplicably happy enjoying just each other's company. It must have been scary and unexpected and ominous all at once. I wasn't sure how I felt about it quite yet, but I was more worried about her than anything.

"We've never talked about it…" I began.

"I know," she said, nodding quickly. "I know, and… I'm not even sure it's something I want. I guess once the option was there…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said softly.

"Hey," I whispered, cradling her head in my hands. "I have no room to talk."

"We suck at this sometimes, don't we?" she giggled.

"A little," I admitted. "But we're still learning."

She leaned into me, and we both wrapped our arms around each other.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I'm sorry too."

She settled back into the sheets, and I joined her, still unsure of exactly how to take all this, and feeling a little uneasy, but mostly just glad that we still had each other.


	8. Letter in the Book

**A/N: **There are references to something I had Grissom do in a previous story. If you don't remember it, it's from the Butterflied chapter (chapter five) of season four's story, A Blind Eye. You can refresh your memory there, if need be :)

Spoilers for episode 7x16, Monster in the Box.

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><p>I cradled a huge, steaming mug of tea in my hands, but I hung back.<p>

I couldn't make myself knock on the door in front of me. As soon as we'd gotten off work, Grissom went straight for his office, locking himself inside. He hadn't come out since. And I was worried about him.

The case had been enough – we lost an officer, but on top of that, the miniature killer was playing a direct game with Grissom, _and _we were at a complete dead end to find him. I remembered how, only a few months ago, he had been so excited at the prospect of finally, finally putting this frustrating case to rest. It hadn't ended then, and it still hadn't ended now. I wished there were some way to help, but short of marching out and tracking down the miniature killer himself, there really wasn't much I could do.

Except be there for him. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He didn't answer, but I let myself in anyway, finding him hunched over his desk, the lamp illuminating an open book in front of him. But he wasn't reading it. He was staring straight ahead with blank eyes, holding his head in his hands.

"Hey," I cooed. "I brought you tea."

He jumped as if jilted out of a stupor.

"What?" he mumbled. "Oh. Thanks, honey."

I put the tea on his desk next to the book and slid my hands over his shoulders, kneading them. The muscles in his back were tight – the tension he was feeling was evident even there. Eventually, I leaned down and dropped my chin onto his shoulder, kissing the side of his neck.

"Are you okay?" I murmured.

"I don't know, Sara," he sighed exasperatedly. "This last one…"

"I know. What can I do?"

"Nothing," he said again. "You can't do anything, I can't do anything… this guy will continue making miniatures until he dies, and we'll probably never get a clue as to who he is or why he does what he does."

"Don't," I scolded, rubbing his shoulders again. "Don't think like that. I know it's frustrating, we're all frustrated, but I've never seen you back down from a challenge. Don't start now."

"It's a mess…"

"I know."

I twisted him around a little in his chair so that he was facing me. I studied his face, and though I found worry lines etched across his forehead and dark circles under his eyes, I smiled at every detail.

"Why don't you come to bed," I suggested. "I think I know a way to make you a little less stressed."

He tried offering me a smile, but the result fell short.

"I'm almost done here," he said tiredly. "I'll be in in a minute."

I recognized my cue. I left the office, closing the door behind me and leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. I hated seeing him like this – frustrated, tired and angry. I wished there was something, _anything_, I could do.

I strode to the bookshelf near the living room and pulled any books that looked even remotely helpful. I carried the stack of them in my arms and headed back to the bedroom, spilling them all over the bed. I climbed in near the pillows and looked at them, pulling over the two closest to me, an encyclopedia and a dictionary. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I figured maybe even flipping through the volumes might produce something helpful. Nothing else was.

I flipped through the pages of the dictionary with my fingers. There was something stuck between two of the pages in the "G" section, and the book fell open to it. It was an envelope, stuck in upside down and never opened. Fingering it, I could tell something was inside. I pulled it out and flipped it over. It had my name on it.

I stared at the four letters for what seemed like an eternity. I was pretty sure I knew who it was from, but the rest was a mystery. When did he write it? Why had he never given it to me? Why was it stuck in the middle of a dictionary?

Tentatively, I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and tore it open. There was a page inside. I stopped halfway through pulling it out, listening for any signs of movement coming from the office. Nothing.

I unfolded the single page and let my eyes run over the words printed upon it.

_Dear Sara,_ it said. _Henry Louis Mencken once wrote, "The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear – fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety."_

I smiled a little. I was definitely right about the author. But as my eyes continued to read over the rest of the letter, my smile faded and my heart grew heavy. By the time I finished, there were tears in my eyes, threatening to spill out and land on the paper I was holding. I didn't know how to feel, or what to think. I knew that at some point, probably for many years, Gil felt like he shouldn't and couldn't be with me. His words to Lurie had told me that much. But to read the words written from his own hand, expressed so eloquently with each and every explanation laid out before me…

I didn't bother moving the pile of books off the bed, I just shoved the letter back into the envelope, back into the book, and crawled under the covers. I clenched my jaw tight, cocooning myself in the blankets. I willed myself to fall asleep before Gil came in, but I wasn't so lucky. I clenched my eyes closed when I heard him come in, but I knew it wouldn't fool him.

"What's all this?" he asked softly, probably gesturing to the mountain of books piled at my feet. "Sara?"

I shrugged, but under all the blankets, he probably couldn't see. I cleared my throat.

"Research."

"You think you'll find the key to the killer in Miriam-Webster?" he asked.

His tone was light and teasing, but it only made the pressure on my heart increase tenfold. I whipped around, eyes ablaze. He looked taken aback.

"I did find a key to someone else though," I said, grabbing the dictionary.

"Sara… what?..."

I opened the pages to the letter and tossed it to him. His face only grew more concerned.

"Oh," he said softly.

"Right next to the entry for grief," I said stingingly. "Very appropriate."

It took him a long time to raise his gaze from the envelope to me.

"Sara, I wrote this a very long time ago," he said slowly. "This were different then… _I _was different then."

"Regardless of when you wrote it, you had your mind made up," I pointed out. "There was no going back."

"At the time, that's what I believed, yes," he said, frustratingly calm.

"What changed?" I challenged.

"Let's not go down this way, Sara," he said. "What's done is done."

"No," I said firmly. "What changed? How could you go to this one second, and suddenly able to be with me another? Or are you just pretending?"

He looked hurt.

"I would never pretend feign the way I feel for you," he said softly. "And this wasn't from one second to this next. There were years in between when I wrote this letter and when we became… us. People change, grow, learn."

My lip trembled and I had to take several long breaths through my nose before speaking.

"This scares me," I said timidly, my eyes back on the envelope.

"Why?" he said distressingly, reaching out for my arm. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but this means nothing now. _None _of it is true. Not any more."

"But what if it is again?" I asked timidly. "If you felt this way before, who's to say you'll never feel it again? What if… you change your mind again?"

Our eyes locked. Minute after minute, we sat in silence and gazed at each other. Finally, he reached to the dictionary lying between us, picked up the envelope and ripped it in half. He kept tearing, until the letter was in pieces. He threw the shreds onto the floor and moved closer to me, without a word. Only centimeters apart, we continued staring at each other until I broke down and folded into him. He wrapped his arms around me.

"I can't predict the future," he said softly. "I don't know what will come or where we will be in five or ten or thirty years. But I do know what I feel for you, and it's this."

He pulled away, putting his hands firmly on each of my arms, making sure I looked straight at him.

"I love you," he said. "I will never hurt you. And I don't ever, _ever_, want to lose you."

A large lump grew in my throat, and I had to swallow several times to keep it down, nodding as I fought back the tears. As anxious as my lingering insecurities still made me, there wasn't a reason in the world for why I shouldn't believe him. I could see the truth reflected in his eyes. And for the rest of the night, and refused to let him go.


	9. Fallen Walls

**A/N: **Tehe :)

Spoilers for episode 7x17, Fallen Idols.

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><p>We'd both been through a lot the last few months. But somehow, with Sara's steady hand guiding the blade across my face, I felt our problems stand still. Our eyes meeting every few seconds, the look of love and concentration on her face, the very few inches that were between us, erased every fear, every worry, every doubt.<p>

God, I loved her.

She put the blade down, took the towel slung over my shoulder and dabbed at my face.

"Done."

I stepped close to the mirror and examined her work. I ran my finger over the smooth skin – not one nick or errant hair.

"Perfect," I said, turning back to her.

She gave me a teasing smile.

"Did you expect anything less?"

I smiled back and stepped closer to her, placing a hand on either side of her hips. I nuzzled my newly shaved face into the nape of her neck.

She moaned.

"You know, the beard has its advantages," she said, cupping my face to tilt it up. "But I like this too. I think I'll have a hard time keeping my hands off you."

I leaned in to kiss her.

"I'm okay with that."

She linked her arms around my neck and we kissed more. She was right – she couldn't stop her hands from touching my face. We kissed until we were breathless, both our hearts pounding in her chest.

I looked her in the eye, trying to imitate that deliciously teasing look she so often gave me. One hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the other rested firmly on the small of her back.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her huskily, echoing her words.

Her gaze flickered up to me, the answer to my question reflected so obviously in her eyes, but she answered it anyways.

"Completely."

I led her to the bedroom.

* * *

><p>The following night, Sara and I showed up to shift early. We'd been late once… or twice… due to getting a little carried away at home and, as Sara pointed out, we needed to be a little more careful. We took seats in the break room waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.<p>

"What are you looking for, honey?" I asked her as she rummaged through her bag.

"My hair clip," she said, dumping the entire bag on the table. "My hair looks like a mess tonight, thanks to you, and I want to pin it back."

"I like it like that."

She glanced up at me from her searching. I leaned across the table and plucked the clip from the piles of paper and half-eaten granola bars. A gaze passed between us and I saw the look in her eye – the one that betrayed how much she wanted to kiss me. But instead, she leaned over and put her hand to my face, her thumb stroking back and forth softly. I would have shaved much sooner, had I known how much it would make her want to touch me.

A noise from the doorway made us jump apart.

"Coffee in here?" Jim asked, a little too brightly and striding in a little too assertively.

Sara flushed red, fumbling with the clip in her hands.

"The container is empty," she said quickly. "I'll go grab more."

She scurried away without a second glance. Jim sat in a chair facing me, a quiet smirk on his face.

"So," he started. "That only took seven years."

I opened my mouth and shut it again, caught off-guard and not really knowing how to respond.

"I… what do you mean?"

"Oh, don't even try, Gil," he said, sounding pleased. "It's been painfully obvious from the start that you two belong together. I've just been sitting here patiently, waiting for you to get over your hang-ups and realize it too."

We stared at each other. I didn't really know how to recover, and honestly, I didn't want to. I actually felt a little bit of relief that _someone_ knew, and I was thankful that out of anybody, it was Jim. I think I might have had a panic attack if it were Hodges.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

I smiled.

"Yes. Very."

He nodded.

"Is she happy?"

My smile grew wider.

"Yes."

Jim stood from his chair, and despite the fact that he'd come for coffee, started to leave without getting a single drop.

"Then I'm happy for you," he said, pausing in the doorway. "But just for the record, if you hurt her, I _will _kick your ass."

He gave me the briefest, happiest little smile, then turned away, coming face-to-face with Sara, returning with a brand new tub of coffee grinds. He winked at her and took off, leaving the two of us staring at each other in disbelief.

But instead of looking nervous or embarrassed, she stood there and smiled at me.

Did I mention how much I loved her?


	10. Broken Heart

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 7x18, Empty Eyes.

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><p>Everything was quiet. I was quiet, he was quiet, even the night was quiet as we drove home.<p>

It wasn't how I expected to spend my night off. I expected a date, a quiet night of holding each other. What I got was… pain.

It wasn't just losing Cammie that was making me stare out the window with wet, teary eyes. It was the entire case. Six lives cut short, six beautiful women gone, and why? It was all so senseless. I already felt lost after the Marlon West case, but this… this was hard to swallow.

I thought I'd known what a hard year was like. I'd had plenty of them, from my first few months in foster care all that time ago to the days where I'd turned to the bottle instead of to others for help. But this year was starting to feel like too much. Watching Catherine lose her father, seeing Greg lose the sparkle in his eyes after his beating, watching Grissom lose faith and become increasingly frustrated and angry with the Miniature Killer. Each case dropped a load of weights on my shoulders that I just wasn't able to shake off like I used to.

It was too much.

Grissom squeezed my hand, and despite myself, I had to give him a weak smile. The difference between this tough year and the others was him. Had I worked this case three years ago, I'd been driving myself home to a quiet apartment and an empty bed. But I wasn't alone, not any more. I had Gil, and he felt like my one constant, the one thing in my life I could always count on for love and support.

He was worried about me, I could tell. He kept sneaking glances at me in the dark, when he thought I wasn't looking. I knew seeing me in pain hurt him in turn. It was the same for me. I would reassure him, if I could, but I just couldn't muster the energy.

The quiet continued as we got home, and we went straight to bed. I had no appetite, and I knew that even if we tried putting on the TV. or putting in a movie, it would do no good in distracting me.

He crawled into bed next to me, quiet as could be. He put his arm over my side, palm resting against my stomach. His touch was hesitant, and that's how I knew he was scared. I think he was trying to figure out what to say, but eventually, he nestled in closer to me and put his lips near my ear.

"You did everything you could," he said softly. "I'm proud of you."

"I didn't save her," I choked, the tears resurfacing and rolling down my cheeks. "Instead, I… c-comforted the one who… who…"

"Sara," he said softly. "Don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault."

I shook my head against the pillow. He didn't understand. But I didn't know how to explain… anything… of what I was feeling. It didn't even make sense to me. All I knew that it left me feeling drained and empty.

Gil stayed close and we laid together in silence. Eventually, I felt his muscles relax around me and heard his breathing grow slow and even. I turned myself around in his arms to face him, to watch him sleep. He was beautiful. I wanted to reach out and touch him, softly, but I didn't want to do anything to disturb the way he looked right then. More silent tears streamed down my face as I watched him sleep, studying every detail as if I wanted to burn the image into my memory forever. Maybe I wanted to. Maybe I wanted nothing but this for the rest of my life, nothing but him and I, because anything and everything else was just… too much.

I couldn't sleep. I tried, but eventually, I took one last long, lingering look at Gil and crawled out of bed as quiet as possible. I tiptoed out to the living room, and curled up on the couch staring out the window at the bright lights of Las Vegas. It all looked so superficial and… pointless now. Didn't all the brainless, silly people out there realize how senseless life could be? That what means the most could be snatched away in just an instant?

I hadn't cried this much in a long time. But I let the tears flow, thankful they were silent. But it wasn't enough. I heard his footsteps behind me, heard him pause, knowing that he was looking at me with a heavy heart. Finally, I swallowed hard and turned to meet his gaze.

"I couldn't sleep," I managed.

We just kept looking at each other, and after a few moments, I just lost it. I completely broke down, chiding myself for doing so, but not able to help it. Sobs claimed me this time, and wracked my body as I choked. Gil came straight to me, wrapping me up in the warmth of him.

"Shhh," he soothed. "You're okay. It'll be okay."

I cried myself senseless, until I had nothing left, and finally, finally, I was tired. Gil took me to bed, wrapped me up tight and didn't say another word. He didn't need to. All I needed was for him to be there, to feel him and smell him and reach out and touch him, and it would be all right.

For now.


	11. A Day Away

**A/N: **Spike is showing an obscene amount of episodes today and tomorrow, and of course, all the ones I want to write for. So if you're watching the repeats along with me, I will more than likely fall a little behind.

Spoilers for episode 7x22, Leapin' Lizards.

* * *

><p>I was so concentrated, bent forward over the desk, nose just inches from the ceiling of the miniature, that I didn't hear her coming. I didn't even know she was there, until her arms slid around me from behind, a piece of paper in her hand.<p>

"Why didn't you send this?" she murmured into my ear.

I looked up at her in surprise. She had found the second of my letters never sent.

"This one I would have liked to receive," she said.

I sighed and put down the final wall siding I was about to glue into my miniature office.

"I didn't send it because I'm a coward, honey," I said, raising my hands. "My name is Gil Grissom, and I am a coward."

She took a seat on the edge of my desk.

"You are not," she said, poking my shoulder. "This was beautiful. You should have sent it."

I wrinkled my brow.

"It wasn't too cheesy?"

"Shakespeare is never too cheesy for me," she replied.

"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare," I began. "As any she belied with false compare."*

Sara's gaze flickered downward, and she looked back up at me with that teasing smirk on her face.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself laid?"

He chuckled.

"This is probably the one time I will ever say this, but no, I'm not."

Sara slid off the desk just slightly, so she was right in front of me. She leaned forward a little, giving me an unobstructed view down her tank top that I tried so hard not to stare at.

"So… you're not coming to bed?"

I held my breath at her closeness.

"Give me a minute, honey," I said. "I'm almost done with this."

She nodded, but I could sense the disappointment she was feeling. She didn't understand why I wanted to build this miniature. She didn't realize that acting like and working like the killer might have been the only way I had left to get to him.

When I finally did finish, all of the walls glued in, and some of the other odds and ends in place, she was back in bed, wrapped in her robe and staring at a Godzilla remake on the TV.

"Another lizard movie?" I asked, slipping into bed next to her.

She nodded.

"There's a marathon."

We watched it for several moments before she reached for the remote and unexpectedly turned it off. She turned toward me.

"Why _do _you find it so difficult to talk to me?" she asked.

I searched her features for a clue of what she was feeling. I couldn't tell.

"I don't know," I admitted. "One of life's mysteries, I guess."

She crossed her arms in front her chest.

"Seriously," she pressed. "Why?"

I thought for a moment, studying her face and contemplating all the things I felt for her. I knew they were true, I felt them every day, reminded myself of them every day, but often had trouble voicing them to the one person who deserved to hear them.

"Because how I feel for you is something I have never felt before," I said eventually. "And I still… struggle… with what to do with that."

"You could try telling the truth."

"Ah, 'the pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives'**," I said. "And with you, my dear, I must face both. Truth _and _beauty."

Despite herself, Sara's lips tugged into a grin.

"I don't ask for much," she said, settling into the covers a little so that she was closer to me. "I just want you to be honest with me. No matter the situation."

"I will," I promised. "Or at least, I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Sara grinned, kissing me several times. "Now. I have an important question for you, so think of this as your first test of honesty. Are you ready?"

I couldn't tell if she was teasing or serious, so I took a deep breath, kissed her, and nodded.

"I'm ready."

"Do you believe," she said slowly. "That there's lizard life on other planets?"

She said it so seriously, I wanted to laugh right away. But I kept my poker face as long as I could, looking into her eyes directly like I was thinking deeply on her important, serious question.

"I think as long as there's no irrefutable proof that there isn't, we must only assume there is."

We continued staring at each other, as serious as could be, until both of us broke face at the same time and burst out laughing. I pulled her close and planted sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss on her shoulders and neck, making her giggle more. I climbed atop her and poked her sides as I kissed, making her squirm beneath me. When I pulled back to look at her, she was red in the face from all the laughter, gazing up at me. I reached out to push her hair back.

"God, you are beautiful like this."

She winked at me.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

She grabbed the collar of my t-shirt and pulled me down until we were nose-to-nose.

"See?" she breathed. "Honesty is _always _the best policy."

* * *

><p>*Shakespeare's Sonnet 130<p>

**Quote by Albert Einstein


	12. Good, Bad and Ugly

**A/N: **I hope I don't make Sara seem too insecure in this chapter. I DO think she was able to get over a lot of her insecurities and hang-ups, otherwise she would have never been able to be with Grissom at all. And I do think they had a very stable, loving relationship. But there were a lot of things beating her down this season, and I think at this point, it was enough to make her cave a little. Let me know :)

Spoilers for episode 7x23, The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix

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><p>One week.<p>

Seven days.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours.

That's how long it had been since I told Grissom, cheekily, but truthfully, that honesty was always the best policy. And in one week – seven days – one hundred and sixty-eight hours – he'd apparently already forgotten. I had spent the previous night alone, wondering where he was but never receiving a phone call. My questions had been answered via lab gossip, and now I was fully expecting to spend another night alone.

I should have just gone back to my apartment. I was almost about to gather up Hank and his things and do just that, when the opening and closing of the front door made me still. He came in without a word, and I listened to him undress and crawl into bed beside me.

"Move over," he whispered.

My anger must have been reflected in my face, because when I rolled over to face him, he stopped dead in surprise. He sighed, sat down slowly and stared at his hands.

"We need to talk."

"Was it worth it?" I demanded testily. "The risk of your reputation, your career… you know, all those things you can't risk for me?"

His blue eyes were wide, and my words lingered in the air between us. I hadn't meant for it to come bursting out like that, but I guess I had had too much time to think about it.

"I should have told you," he said softly.

"Why didn't you?"

Another ringing demand.

"I told you, Sara," he said, trying to keep calm. "I… I have trouble discussing my emotions with you."

"I told _you_," I shot back. "That all I wanted was honesty from you. I mean, Jesus… what was I supposed to think?"

He stared at me.

"I didn't sleep with her."

I gave him a look that clearly said, _as if that helps_, and swallowed hard.

"You never have?"

He paused. That said enough. I rolled back over, leaving him to stare at my back. I heard rustling, but no fingers or hands reached out to touch me. He must have been sitting up, looking down on me as he spoke. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the bedside lamp.

"She's my friend, Sara," he said evenly. "She needed me."

I sighed in frustration and rolled back over, shaking my head as I looked at him.

"I told you I get it," I said. "And I do. I'm not blaming you for what you did for her. You would have never forgiven yourself had you not been there for her. As a friend."

"Then what is, honey?" he pleaded. "Please explain."

He really didn't understand, did he? He was so clueless to the idea that in helping Heather, he had hurt me in the process. And it all came back to honesty.

"You dropped everything for her," I began. "Disregarded everything else—"

"I'd do that for you," he cut in.

I pressed my lips tight. I wanted to challenge him by asking exactly _when _the last time he'd done such a thing was, but we both knew what I was thinking without words – the time when he'd done exactly the opposite. Dropped everything, including me, and left it behind, to take care of himself. And that had been okay. But now that I'd seen him do it for someone else, I wondered if he'd ever be capable of doing it for me.

"Why don't you trust me?" I said in a whisper.

"I do, Sara—"

"No," I cut in, shaking my head. "You don't. Not really. You trust me to share your home, share your bed… raise your dog. But if you can't _really _trust me… then what are we doing?"

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, and he turned me over to face him. I wished there weren't tears in my eyes.

"We're learning," he said softly. "Every step of the way, we're learning. Every hurdle and bump and obstacle."

I shook my head against the pillow.

"I don't know if that's enough."

For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes, and it surprised me. My mind went crazy searching for what he possibly could be frightened of, but when I got there, I knew it was true. He was afraid of losing me.

"You want the honest-to-God truth?" he asked.

My breath caught in my throat, so I only nodded.

"You are the only person I've ever loved," he said. "You will be the only person I ever love, because the thought of life without you is… unimaginable."

I exhaled, willing myself not to cry.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," he said. "Not for what I did, but how I acted, and how I treated you. Because I didn't stop to think how this might have affected you, and that was the very worst thing I could do. I love you, Sara. I love you, and I'm sorry."

He took a deep breath.

"And… I hope that's enough," he finished. "But if it's not… well…"

When I spoke, my voice came out in a tiny, wavering whisper.

"It's more than enough."

I could literally see the relief wash over him like a tidal wave. Our broken hearts reached out for each other and held on for dear life, refusing to let go for the rest of the night and into the morning.

There was nothing like the threat of losing someone, to make you realize what really mattered.


	13. Living Carefully

**A/N:** I was going to go the traditional route for this one, but ended up with this instead. I hope my little risk pays off. And also, season eight's story will be started later today.

Spoilers for episode 7x24, Living Doll.

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><p>It took me five weeks to figure out what to do.<p>

After Ernie died, I felt like my brain turned to mush. It was hard to think, concentrate, and I felt just a little lost. After the police were finally done poking around in his house – our house – I went in to look around. Carefully. I'm always careful.

I didn't watch the video that Ernie made, but I did see who he sent it to.

There was a name on the door at the lab, I cleaned the room, but for five weeks, I never saw him. He must have been away. People came in and left, and left and came in, but I never saw him. I just watched.

Carefully.

But I didn't mind that he was away, not for now. It gave me time to think. Thinking is important.

I smiled when he found the miniature of the apartment room I left for him. But I did it carefully, so no one would see.

I missed Ernie. I missed him a lot. Sometimes, it was so much that every breath I took felt like a million knives stabbing me in the chest. It hurt. And all I wanted was for _him_ to have to feel that pain, too.

And all of a sudden, I knew what to do.

I always liked the darkness. I liked staying in the shadows. So when I got hired to clean the lab, I was happy that I got to do it at night, where I could slip between the patches of darkness and no one would see me. It was one of those nights when I first saw _her_.

The building was quiet, empty, dark that night. But there they were, in the room that said _Grissom_, and they were talking close. Very close. Carefully.

I didn't know who she was, but I just knew that she was special. I knew I was going to take her.

I was going to take his special girl.

I started watching. Carefully. I was saw them leaving one night, and they walked right past me, cleaning in the shadows, invisible as a ghost. They didn't see me, but I saw them. I saw how he wiped away her tears and I saw where he put his hand as they walked away. I saw how she leaned into him and from the window, I saw him open his door for her.

The next day, I followed them to a car accident. He kissed her in the car. I watched them pretend, pretend as if everything was normal, and even in the brightest of daylight, they didn't see me. But I saw it, the way his trailed his hand down her arm, and the knives in my chest stabbed harder. I was right there watching them, but they didn't see me.

Invisible as a ghost.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. He shouldn't be allowed to be happy, when he's caused me so much pain.

I worked hard. I worked slowly. Carefully. I didn't want anything to go wrong. I promised Ernie I wouldn't hurt anyone else, but I was doing this _for_ him. He would understand. He would be proud of his special girl.

Everything went to plan. I took her, I drugged her, I dragged her, I left her. And when I walked away, I had a smile on my face.

I knew that when he found her, he would feel those million little knives stabbing in his chest.

And we would be even.


End file.
